


Blackberry Jelly

by Accidentallytechohazardous



Category: Bleach
Genre: Altered Mental States, M/M, POV First Person, Past Brainwashing, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Stalking, Yandere, stop my son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidentallytechohazardous/pseuds/Accidentallytechohazardous
Summary: Post-Ending What-If Scenario That Haunts Me #3452: What if Shuuhei’s experience getting brainwashed briefly didn’t just magically fade away, but instead projected itself onto other aspects of his life.





	Blackberry Jelly

**Author's Note:**

> Additional Resources: https://www.base64decode.org/

I want to apologize, first and foremost. Just get that out of the way. This will not be my attempt to validate my actions or experiences, or to dramatically flog myself for the entertainment of a rowdy public. The very last thing that I need to do is become a pawn in (yet a-goddamn-nother) misinformation scheme and spread around false ideas. **  
**

Maybe that was the Quincy’s agenda all along. They took a page out of Aizen’s book, intentional or no. When Soul Society was truly under attack, when we really were at the Eleventh Hour, the war never started at our front door like we always thought it would. They were already here. And they knew exactly how to disable us, too. Stealing bankais, zombies, brainwashing… the monsters were always here with us the whole time, and they were already armed to the teeth with deadly weapons.

The weapons were us.

After the war ended, I wanted to record the events of the fight in its entirety. I’m not really sure why I was so motivated. Maybe I was simply frustrated. I didn’t just lose friends and allies, get my ass kicked across Seireitei and back, just for all my comrades to be lost to the footnotes of history. Some ancient scholar tasked with recording our many, many failures and pondering if we deserved victory. I wanted the full picture, and I wanted it from first-hand accounts. That’s why started this in the first place- journaling, writing and compiling in secret. Unlike my articles for the paper, these would be private to me and not released to the public until I was satisfied with the information I had painstakingly collected.

But, good intentions aside, the full picture ended up not being the thing that I actually wrote. I was too proud for that. It was fine for me to probe other people and ask them these deeply personal questions about the war, making them describe the monsters they’d seen and the way it destroyed them, but I was too embarrassed to admit my own story to myself. I was prideful and angry and humiliated and disgusted, I still refuse to even taint my paper with his name. I guess you’d call that an author’s “artistic liberty”. History is written by the winners, after all. And I am an undeserving champion.

I did not want anybody to know that I had been briefly brainwashed, and in addled mental state I willingly sided with the enemy. Much like how a baby duck, fresh out the egg, willingly sides with the first living thing it sees as its mother. Who needed to know? Besides, the one who controlled my mind was killed soon after, and I optimistically assumed that would be the end of it. All sunny skies from here on out. Besides, I already had enough on my plate following the final battle. Taking the time to analyze my mental state surely would have drummed up some troubling thoughts and feelings, regardless of who had or had not been poking around my brain. By that point I was already damaged, and I arrogantly assumed that I was already too broken to break.

 

There was no reason to tell anyone that I experienced anything odd.

There was no reason to examine the way I felt.

There was no evidence that anything would last, when the creature who put the spell on me was six feet below a mountain of rubble. That’s just what I assumed.

I was used to having my hands full at the Ninth Division. Tousen’s absence had taught me how to juggle the responsibilities of a captain, despite the fact that I had zero intention of holding that office for any longer than I had to. You see, I have been known to occasionally enjoy little indulgences like getting a decent amount of sleep and eating full meals. So the double-duty of captaincy was right the fuck out.

For this reason it was a relief to have an excuse to stay home in the morning, even if it was just to make breakfast for Renji and Izuru. I wanted, in my own fretful way, to make sure this was done. Izuru’s had been in low spirits ever since the ‘operation’, and even if I set out something bland like a small bowl of rice and some miso soup he barely has the appetite to do more than pick at it. Feeling as poorly as he does, Renji and I don’t want to put extra pressure on Izuru by letting him know that it bothered us that he isn’t eating enough.

As I cleared the table and took away the empty plate from Renji (who has had absolutely no trouble with his appetite, of this I’m sure) I struggled to think of ways I could better entice Izuru to eat more. “I’m probably gonna swing by the market, pick up groceries tonight after work.” I announced to the table, in all my tactful and charming glory. “Maybe picking up some things to make agar-agar jelly.”

I saw Izuru’s eyes flick to my face in interest, cheek held in his hand and smothering a thin smile on his dry lips. Even if he was humoring me, it was nice to have his attention. The dark rings under his eyes looked lighter than they did the day before, at last it was possible to focus on the blue underneath golden lashes.

Next to him, Renji also perked up. “What time are you gonna be home tonight.” Yes, very subtle, Lieutenant Abarai. It makes sense that if I’m trying to stick my nose into everyone’s business, Renji makes it his job to stick his nose into mine. Someone, he often points out, has to be ‘handling’ me.

“I’m not working late. Captain Muguruma is coming back to the office today, and he’s still not feeling a hundred percent yet. If I try to work late, he’ll get cranky and kick me out so hard my head’ll spin.”

I saw Renji’s shoulders slump a little with relief. As if working overtime was more important to me than taking care of Renji and Izuru. It grated my nerves, surprisingly, that they would think I would rather be at work than with them.

Fall asleep at your desk one time…

“And you’ll be home at the normal time? Captain ‘Rigorous Perfectionist’ Kuchiki usually keeps you on a tight schedule.”

“Sure, but I was gonna spend a little bit after work helping out Rukia in the Thirteenth.” Renji said, and I recalled that the Ninth wasn’t the only division that had been missing its captain. Lieutenant Kuchiki had her hands fuller than anybody else around here. And it made sense that Renji would be there to help her, all faithful and busy and fussy like he is.

Still, I wasn’t totally convinced. I wanted to ask Renji if it was really necessary that he spend so much time helping Rukia. Surely, she was a capable lieutenant and could figure out her own division. Renji already was busy enough at the Sixth to run himself ragged, so he should have been at home.

What I ended up saying was “Don’t overwork yourself.” Which prompted Renji to laugh, face breaking into a grin as if I had said something funny.

“Hypocrite. Sure, you’re the boss.”

It was very typical of Renji to do things like that, underselling himself and downplaying every little thing. That’s why he needed me around, of course. Someone has to take care of things around here.

 

You might not know the details about the daily lives of shinigami if you’re reading this. I won’t assume that if my journals are ever of value to future generations, those recipients are necessarily going to be residents of the Seireitei, or even that they’re going to be humans. So, apologies if this gets esoteric.

The Seireitei is, geographically, a perfect circle. The grounds for each division of the Gotei are spread pretty evenly around the diameter of that circle. The Seireitei is almost a perfectly self-contained bubble. There is no place you can be within those white walls that doesn’t put you under the great, protective, patronizing eye of the Court Guards.

The grounds of each division themselves are varied. Divisions such as the Sixth or the Second have a lot of family history to them, having been passed down the lineage of nobles for a disgustingly long time. Long enough that someone with too much money and too much self-importance has probably organized the entire structure of the division to their personal fancy.

I’m not saying the Ninth Division is better. I’m not saying that, but you can read between the lines.

The Ninth, also, has its own system to things. There are the office buildings, the barracks, the training halls and the mess hall. It is, in it’s own way, also self-contained. When I still lived in the barracks full-time, there were days I didn’t leave the division grounds at all. I would simply get up, leave the barracks, go to the mess hall, and sit my ass down in my office, rinse and repeat. It was not a healthy way to live, but it’s awfully efficient. Almost as if the divisions had been designed to be that way from the start, breeding machines instead of soldiers.

Renji, Izuru and I pay for our own house off of division grounds, away from the territories and politics of the Gotei in exchange for some peace and quiet. We pay out of pocket for our land. Because we are poor and unimportant.

It’s not so different, however, walking into the division offices now than it did before. Most of the time I’m still one of the first people here. It’s dark and quiet in the morning, and if you spend a lot of time here surrounded by your officers then you come to appreciate being alone before everyone else noisily files in.

Well. Alone-ish. Because I had just put my key into the door of my office and slid it open before I realized my desk was already occupied by a familiar green nuisance.

I didn’t waste any time, walking around and pulling the chair she was sitting out from the desk without even a hello. “I need my chair back, Kuna.”

She seemed nonplussed by my shaking her around, folding her arms over her slim chest and fixing her face in a familiar pout. “It was my chair first, Shuuhei. You kids these days never know how to respect your elders!”

I easily pointed her away from my desk, setting down a thick folder of paperwork I had taken with me from home on the wooden surface. And in that process I noticed Kuna had set up a lantern, one with all her typical clumsy, glove-clad fingerprints smeared all over the glass. “How do you keep getting in here- you know what, I don’t want to know. What are you doing in here? The morning shift doesn’t technically start for an hour.”

“Doesn’t stop you from marching in here early every day. You need to get a new hobby, Co-Lieutenant.” Kuna hopped from my chair, picking up the cold lantern and marching about the room with a rebellious swagger of her hips. “And anyways, not that it’s your business, but I was working! In times of hardship, a Super Vice-Captain always picks up the slack for her captain and her junior. Your welcome, Junior.”

“Hmmm.” Glancing at the desk, it appeared Kuna actually had been in the middle of writing a lengthy report in green gel pen when I had entered. “Gosh, what an honor.”

It probably sounds like I don’t like Mashiro. I knew, on some level, that she doing her best to help. She had taken on a lot of dangerous responsibility in the war, and gotten very little credit for it despite the genuine heroism of her actions. I shouldn’t have been trying to give her orders or disregard her work, like doing that was gonna get me anything that a hot, fresh helping of sass anyways. Muguruma would’ve been disappointed in me.

But that really was the problem, right there. Captain Muguruma was still in intensive care- had been, since the Fourth Division took custody of his medical care from the Twelfth. That left me and Kuna in charge, and without the Captain as a buffer we quickly began to grate on each other.

It irked me, the way she suddenly seemed to be under my feet wherever I turned. That we had virtually nothing in common, aside from Muguruma. That he seemed to be all she could talk about, which just intensified my anxieties. She was a daily burden, and it was a daily drag leaving Kira and Abarai just to come and see her.

“Anyways. I was waiting ‘cuz I needed to tell you about Kensei.” Mashiro tented her fingers, the tips of her bright orange gloves coming together. These days, the occasional flash of orange fabric still reminded me of a vibrant scarf wrapped around Tousen’s neck. As warm and inviting as a poisonous dart frog. “He was sold on coming in today, but I wouldn’t hold your breath about it. There was some kinda, uh, complication at the Fourth Division. Doesn’t seem super serious, else they woulda’ put him back in intensive care. He probably was just too stubborn to listen to the doctors and tripped over his own IV drip or something, the big dummy.”

It was rare for Kuna to act anxious. I didn’t fully understand the relationship between her and Muguruma, but as far as I figured he was sort of like a father to her. But instead of being sensitive to that, all I could comprehend was disappointment. Impatience. Irritation. Suspicion.

“Did he call you from the Fourth?” I asked. “He didn’t call me.”

My tone must have changed, because Mashiro’s eyes flicked to me with big, blue blinks of surprise. “No, I went to see him.”

I felt my stomach churn, those sour emotions turning into loud static in my head. Of course, while I had been working and actually getting shit done, Kuna was off fucking around and hassling Muguruma. Her pestering was probably the reason he wasn’t getting better faster. My tongue turned into acid in my mouth. “I see.”

Kuna’s report was still on my desk, the lime gel ink flashing against pure parchment. With one motion it was snatched into my hands, crumpled up carelessly in my fist. “Thank you for the report, Super-Lieutenant Kuna. Always a pleasure to see you take something seriously for a change and stop by.”

Predictably, her expression soured, brows furrowing under goggles. “Psht. You’re welcome, jerk.” I watched her turn on her heels, storming towards the door. “Dunno why he even bothers with you sometimes!”

“That’s my line.” As Mashiro slammed the door behind her, the papers with Mashiro’s loopy handwriting fell carelessly from my hand into the trash bin.

 

The routine used to be that I would take lunch in my second office, in the editor’s office rather than my lieutenant digs. And usually I would have a parade of visitors to entertain, I guess since I was easy to find. It got lonely at times, Abarai and Matsumoto banished to patrol work in the World of the Living, and Kira and Hinamori having a similarly stifling workload to my own with vacancies in “”””leadership””””. I could still reliably have some visitor to complain to that they were interrupting my tedious paperwork.

Since then, it’s become less rare for me to venture out of my workplace, blinking and squinting in this assault of the senses that we call ‘sunlight’.

I-f I were to pick a place for a lunch date, Izuru’s office would not be my top choice. It would not even be in my top 5 places to have a lunch date, but we all do odd things for love.

Izuru’s complexion was somehow even worse when I dropped by in the afternoon with his lunch. He’d always been sort of delicate-looking, with those fine, fragile features and the way he stoops his shoulders.

The fact that Izuru had been dead was the worst kept secret in Soul Society. It was written on his face, between the hollows of his cheeks. Renji washed away the stench of death from Izuru for him with raspberry shampoo and eucalyptus soap.

He watched me deposit a parcel wrapped in a napkin on his lap, which I had expertly tied at the top into a knot. I am a jack of all trades. Lieutenant. Chef. Bow maker. “Cucumber sandwiches. And some tea afterwards to settle your stomach.”

“How dare you. I’ve had a package of instant ramen in the cupboard I’ve been making eyes at all day.” Izuru dutifully picked at the knot to unravel his sandwiches, as I sat on the edge of his desk and unwrapped my own. “You don’t need to do all this, you know. Making lunch and bringing it in, after making breakfast at home. You do all the cooking, and I know for a fact it’s not because you have too much time on your hands.”

“Yeah, but that’s why you and Renji do all the dishes. Funny how that works out.” I pointed out, and observed as Izuru nibbled on the corner of the bread. “You’re welcome to do the cooking any time you want. As long as there’s no more accidents with the knives. Or the stove.”

As he swallowed, Izuru’s slender neck contracted and relaxed. He was not healthy, but even in this state there was a beautiful geometry to him. I could see the flash of the shape of his skull when he turned his jaw. The light and rosy pink of his lips when his tongue left his mouth to wet them. “The stove wasn’t my fault. We agreed on this.”

“Abarai is exercising his right to remain silent on the matter. So I only have to assume he’s protecting you. I sleuthed this out with my stellar detective skills. Case closed.”

“You’re so fussy.” Izuru’s sigh came out more as a wheeze, a death rattle in his slender chest. “If you spend all your time worrying about me, you’re going to wear yourself down. Don’t you ever get tired?”

“All the time.” That was no secret. By the end of the week, I was almost as much a zombie as Izuru was.

“I mean tired of me.”

I wished I could have been surprised Izuru would say something like that out loud. But it was actually a pretty typical sentiment for him.

It was only that before, the statement would have been delivered with some embarrassment. Nobody was supposed to know that Izuru thought low of himself, since he had to be strong for his officers and the rest of the Third. He would ask me, shyly, with eyes downcast to the floor, if my investment in him was worthwhile.

This Izuru asked me point-blank, with unflinching eyes. Almost like a challenge.

There are times when I wish I’m more like Renji. Because if Izuru is stronger than people give him credit for, Renji is certainly much more clever. I could imagine him sitting there instead of me, Izuru’s troubling comment sliding off of his back. A toothy grin across his face, and a deflective answer that would somehow answer Izuru’s question while also lightening the mood. Renji could bring the entire conversation, the entire atmosphere of a room under his control if he chose to.

“I think you’re a handful.” I admitted. “But so am I. Nobody’s expecting you to bounce back right away, Izuru. And I really don’t mind taking care of you, or Renji for that matter, because it’s what I want to do. So no, I’m not tired of you.”

At last, some faint color seems to seep into Izuru’s face. Blood rushing from it’s slow-moving current in his cool veins, webbing outwards to dye the thin lampshade of his skin. He glows. “You always have all the answers, don’t you?”

“Pretty much.” It was easy- practiced, even, to reach out my hand and scoop it under Izuru’s chin. Lifting his face so I could be sure he was listening, holding him in my palms like that.

“Izuru, I will always know what’s best for you.”

I could see in his expression that I had successfully chased away his doubts. For the time being, at least. He believed me.

The troubling thing was, I did too.

 

I could say a lot on the subject of love. I think a lot of people have false perceptions of me, that I take things too seriously or try to silence my emotions. Maybe there’s a grain of truth there, but numbing myself was never something I actively set out to do. On the contrary, my feelings sometimes seem like the most real parts of me.

Tousen placed a lot of value in using critical thinking to solve problems. It’s not enough to just listen to the law and obey the rules. You have to decide for yourself the difference between right and wrong. You have to keep your heart open, and the more it hurts then that’s all the better. Because the pain shows us what matters.

I did love him. Tousen, I mean. And I’m not apologetic about that. I never knew my blood parents, which is the case for most of us who grow up in the Rukongai. I was taken in by the people I would call “Dad” and “Ma”. I was raised by the people I would call my brothers and sisters. But the relationship I had with my family was always one of mutual disappointment.

They hated shinigami. Not unreasonably. They hated the tips of white towers that they could see scraping the horizon. Little white teeth gnawing at the edge of the sky. When I left for the Seireitei, I think they were actually relieved to stop speaking to me.

Kensei Muguruma was my first hero. My first mentor, even though he didn’t know it. I became obsessed with him. But Tousen followed afterwards, and he was there the longest.

Obsession. Obsession. Obsession. It’s always obsession, turning good intentions rotten. Obsession with power. Obsession with knowledge. Obsession with perfection. Obsession with love.

Love comes in many different forms. So does obsession.

 

 

Eventually, it became more and more apparent that my frustration was mounting. Muguruma still hadn’t returned to the Ninth Division, and Kuna had been quiet since the report incident.

Not for the first time, I realized how dark and lonely my office was when there was no one to interrupt me. Sealed in on all sides like a tomb, I began to feel restless. Being alone was torment, unless I had something to bide my time.

I have a world bigger than the Ninth Division and my two paramours. The problem with visiting Captain Komamura, Rangiku-san and Hinamori was, however, that I could never fully obtain their attention. And when I was spending time with them and their focus waned, distracted by a sudden alert from an office or something, I got cross. It’s embarrassing that I would behave like such a brat, but it is what it is. It was more important to hide my negative emotions than allow them to know I was feeling childishly neglected.

At any rate, it didn’t matter. Having friends was nice, but not necessary. At the end of the day I could always go home to Renji and Izuru and be alone with them.

Renji Abarai. Izuru Kira. They really were my two favorite people. Even if my captain didn’t return to me, or my closest friends couldn’t entertain me, they were always so attentive and grateful. I began to wait on the clock for lunch time to roll around so I could bring Izuru the lunch I had made him, or for sparring sessions with Abarai where I could feel his body close to mine.

Of course, I had the privilege of feeling both their bodies against mine at home, when the lights were out and we could finally truly be alone. Where I could occupy them, mentally and physically. If only they never had to leave the house! We would just stay inside all day in a pile of tangled limbs, and shut out the rest of the Soul Society. Let us have some peace and silence for a change.

Until I got to leave for the day, I had to find ways to cheat. One strategy I designed was to take Renji’s dirty bandanas out of the laundry pile before they went in the wash, while it was still musty and ripe with smell of sweat.

It was such a powerful, comforting smell. It smelled like Renji, curling up under the covers next to me after we had sex, warm and exciting. I kept it in my pocket throughout the day, and if I was feeling bored or unwanted I could just take it out and inhale his scent.

There was nothing particularly wrong with that. I’m his boyfriend. If anybody should be holding onto Renji’s possessions it should be me, and I doubted that he even noticed.

The issue was that thinking about that led me to the realization, however, that I wasn’t the only person who had access to Renji’s things. Before he moved in to the house we now live in, Renji of coursed lived in the Sixth Division barracks. In his personal quarters there was probably still piles of his old clothes, things he had left behind if he needed to spend the night. This was true of Izuru’s quarters in the Third Division, too.

It was foolish that I hadn’t thought of that before. These rooms just sitting there like personal museums of my beloveds. They were both very powerful and desirable people, what if someone just broke into their rooms and took their possessions for their own? Like Renji’s little stalker subordinate, or Izuru’s new captain who always doted on him?

It would be far too embarrassing for them, if they knew their belongings were being rifled through and collected by perverts, so I had to take the initiative for their sake. I would just take care of their possessions myself, like I do with everything.

Breaking into Renji’s personal quarters in the Sixth’s barracks was so easy, it was stunning that I hadn’t done it before. I didn’t have a key to the place, but the windows in the barracks have a sort of give to them on one angle, where the latch meets the frame. Honestly, the workmanship was so shoddy, anyone could be in or out.

Inside, I was almost disappointed that the room didn’t smell more like Renji. There was hardly even a stray strand of red hair to be found. I supposed it had been a while since he stayed here overnight, and that thought filled me with satisfaction.

Tossing my bag onto the floor and snapping it open, I opened Renji’s closet. The same plan shihakusho all the way back. All of Renji’s more casual clothes were at home. Didn’t matter. I took them anyways, just to be safe.

It was about when I had finished putting away Renji’s hakamas (‘How, Lieutenant Hisagi,’ you may ask, ‘did you manage to pack away a closet full of hakama pants in one suitcase?’ Excellent folding.) when I heard his voice.

Renji’s, I should say. Thank God, or else things would have gotten really embarrassing.

“Hey, Shuuhei.” I looked over and saw him in the doorway, with his head cocked to the side like a puppy. He had this weird kind of smile on his face, like I was doing something very amusing. “Whatcha doin’, dear? If you wanted my clothes on the bedroom floor, you only had to ask.”

At the sight of him, relief filled me. “I do, but that’s a request for another time.” I felt no shame, chiding him with his clothes fisted in my hands. “You haven’t lived here in years, but you still keep a ton of spare clothes here. You tryin’ to make me jealous or something?”

I meant it as an empty joke, just to tease. Though from the way Renji’s expression turned murky, I wondered if my inflection had been wrong. Renji was leaning in the doorway on his arm and his hip, and as his eyes flickered to my feet he seemed to realize just how much of his clothing I had put away.

“Of course not, you’re the one saying we should always be prepared. And you know me, I could spill ink or blood or whatever all over myself at any given moment…” He jutted his chin towards the pile. “So. What are you doing?”

Finally, a chance to explain these thoughts buzzing in my head. “I was moving our stuff. I mean, there’s really no need for them to be here, accidents aside. It’d be gross if someone broke in here and got their grubby mits all over your private property, so I was going to take everything home.”

It made perfect sense to me, but Renji’s brows furrowed. He was very cute when he played dumb like that. “Hmm. And this doesn’t have anything to do with yer recent… habits, right? You all swiping my bandanas and shit.”

I didn’t even know he had noticed. He said it like it was something suspicious, and I felt my skin flush. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, so why did I feel this hot rush of shame? My heart pittered noisily in my chest. “Well… you’re out so much, helping Kuchiki-san at work. I miss you sometimes…”

Even to myself, I began to realize how strange that sounded. Hadn’t I always been fine working long hours by myself? When did I become so dependent on others to give me purpose, when did I become so preoccupied with instant gratification?

“How did you get into my quarters without a key?” Renji asked, and guiltily I nodded towards the broken window latch. It dawned on me finally how weird and possessive I had been acting, but the words to explain it still failed me.

Without looking at him, I heard Renji’s footsteps as he entered the room. “Shuuhei… are you- you’ve been acting kind of weird lately. Are you feeling okay?”

Why did I become so unbearably warm at that moment? It felt like there was a fire under my skin. Like my blood was coming to a boil. Were my actions gross? Was my behavior disgusting? I had been trying to help, even thinking that my actions had repulsed the one I was trying to dote on made me sick to my stomach.

“Yeah, of course- I mean, I think so…” Dropping the cloth in my hands, I raked my hands through my hair. What had happened to me? What did Renji mean by ‘weird’? “I just… I wanted to protect you, so…”

“Shuuhei? Oh my god, you’re swaying! Are you sick?” Renji’s voice, rich with concern, sounded musical to my ears. That was always Renji for you. Always thinking of me. Being nice to me. I felt his hands on my shoulders, his warm body in front of mine. “Here, you should lie down for a minute, catch yer’ breath. The couch over there-”

My hands covered his. God. I can remember so vividly, my skin felt electric where it touched him. It was so sensual. With just a simple touch, Renji had sent my head spinning- wasn’t that what love was all about?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” The words fell out of my mouth, even as Renji navigated me to sit. But all I was really thinking about was Renji’s warm hands. His warm breath. He looked so striking today, the way his brown eyes were blown wide with worry.

“It’s fine, just relax.” Renji assured me. “You’ve been working too hard, your brain is probably fried to hell-”

“No!”

It wasn’t work or exhaustion. I didn’t feel tired- on the contrary, I wasn’t sure I had ever felt more alive!

I put my hands on Renji’s face- gently. Carefully. I looked at him and I loved what I saw, his long hair draping over his shoulders. His soft lips parted in surprise, showing just the barest glimpse of white teeth. “You’re so gorgeous, you know? I’ve always thought this, but right now it’s the only thing that I can think about at all. Isn’t that odd?”

My head was pounding. My blood was burning. Heart patterning. Limbs shaking.

“I want to be around you all the time. I want everything to look and sound and feel and smell and taste like you. When you’re near me I feel alive, and when you’re gone I’m hollow inside.”

Pounding. Burning. Patterning. Shaking.

“Renji, I love you so much that it’s killing me!”

I didn’t know where these words were coming from. My mouth moved, I felt this frantic struggle in my gut, like two forces pushing for control. As much as I wanted to press myself against Renji and keep confessing my love, something else was pushing me back.

And Renji just looked pale. Alarmed. Afraid. Why? I wondered what I looked like then, what I had done with my face as I gripped him and babbled mad declarations of infatuation.

“Let’s… you…” Renji’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, and tenderly he pried me away from his head. “Shuuhei, you need to lie down. Yer in a state, and I don’t know what’s happening but it’s gonna be okay. I’ll getcha something to help you sleep.”

Disappointed didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. But Renji was right… I didn’t feel well. And his fretting over me was at least gratifying, though I should be the one taking care of him. I allowed Renji to watch over me as I settled into his futon, Renji rustling up some tea and headache medicine.

In Renji’s bed, I tried to understand what had happened. It should be normal for me to see the error in my behavior. Wasn’t it always my job to be the responsible one?

The things I did and said… Even I could tell they were unlike me. But they way that I felt and the thoughts in my head were as real as anything. Even now, with Renji on the other side of the door, all I wanted to do was look at him. Just. Be close to him. I loathed that there was anything seperating us, even a wall. Even my own weakness.

I knew how love was supposed to feel. I also knew how obsession felt. This felt… like that, I think. It was all of my feelings but at once, and faster. I couldn’t control my thoughts, because my brain was already moving ahead of me. It was dizzying. The earth spun beneath me and the only thing that could make it stop was the person who had just pushed me away.

Renji’s voice came through the wall, hushed. He was trying to be quiet, but speaking softly had never been Renji’s specialty. “… Yeah, I have him resting now. He’s having some kinda mental breakdown, I’m honestly like one step away from calling Kotetsu to take a look at him… no, I dunno if that’d be good. Maybe just have him sleep on it today. I’ve never seen him like this before…”

A soft little twitter through static. Compelled, I moved. Softly, I walked. With my ear against the wall, I could hear the gentle rasp of Izuru’s voice in Renji’s ear.

Renji grunted. “No, I told you. Stay where you are. I’m gonna keep an eye on him here. Yeah. Good idea. Stay with her for the night and I’ll talk to you soon.”

I didn’t have to rack my brain to figure out what was going on. It was offensive that Renji thought there was something wrong with me, so much so that he was trying to keep Izuru away from me.

Or was this actually the case? Renji put up such an earnest act all the time, people could forget how good he was at obscuring the truth. But I didn’t. Not even when he tried to tiptoe around Izuru’s feelings and smother his own. But he had a beating heart, and needs. Was it really so vain to think that maybe Renji had been putting on an act? All this drama, this ‘acting weird’ I had been doing was just Renji pretending I was sick so he would have an excuse to spend time with me.

He could be so immature sometimes, but I would forgive him.

I heard the kettle whistle on the stove, it’s shrieking suddenly interrupting my thoughts. And as I heard Renji’s footsteps pad over and the rich aroma of tea opening up in the air, I quickly toed my way back to the futon and slipped under the covers.

As I sat down and arranged the comforter over my lap, the shape of my Soul Communicator reminded me of its presence by painfully jabbing me in the hips. I removed it, wondered if I should give Izuru a message of my own not to worry about Renji’s teasing. But I decided against it. Better for him to think I was sick and then see him myself in the morning.

When Renji came in I pretended to be sleeping, my back facing the door, as if I hadn’t been waiting for him. Anticipating the pattern between his steps as he approached me. He placed his hand on my shoulder to gently shake me awake and although every movement was telegraphed so plainly I couldn’t possibly have not expected it, my heart fluttered anyways.

“Shuuhei?” A cautious whisper. I rolled over and blinked up at Renji sleepily. “Hey, baby. How you feeling?”

“Better.” I said, which wasn’t a lie. I sat up, pushing my bangs out of my face as if I was disoriented- better to act the part, I supposed, in case Renji still needed reassurance. “I’m sorry. I dunno what came over me, I think I was feverish.”

I could see in his expression that Renji wasn’t fully satisfied. So fussy. I tried for a confident smile, to let him know he was worrying too much. “Where’s my tea?”

Renji snorted through his nose, taking up the cup of tea he had placed on the side table before jostling me. “Scoot over. It’s cold as shit here and you have all my blankets.”

That was better. I felt much calmer with Renji’s weight pressed up against me. Eventually, he fell asleep like that, with my head on his chest. I could feel Renji’s breath rise and fall, beat of his heart in it’s cage, every dollop of blood running under my ear.

He slept heavily, and I didn’t sleep at all. I was preoccupied listening to the steady tempo of Renji’s heart. 80 beats per minute. 4,800 times per hour. 38,400 all night.

 

 

 

A few days had passed since the Renji incident, and graciously it looked like everything is calming down

Maybe this was even a blessing in disguise. Since my ‘episode’ with my ‘illness’, Izuru seemed more alert than before. He was more awake, more present, and he was livelier now with his thoughts are occupied with me. And if that’s the case, then I don’t mind the fretting and fussing that comes with it.

Hell, it’s even sweet to be fussed over by Izuru and Renji after all the work I’ve done to support them. Still, it feels backwards. I wish they’d just move on and get back to letting me take care of them. All’s well that ends well, I guess.

And I am grateful we got that whole event squared away, because I would need all of my concentration. Captain Muguruma finally came back to the office, and I would have been mortified if word about my ‘sickness’ getting to him after he was poked and prodded by doctors for months. Talk about taking my situation for granted.

The fact that R&D was able to bring people back from death was impossible and bizarre enough, but the aftereffects were almost even more curious. Izuru had died, as well as Rangiku-san, Captain Otoribashi, Captain Hitsugaya and Captain Muguruma, and I wondered if they would all experience similar symptoms for the rest of their life.

Izuru was perhaps the most dramatic case, since he had been gone the longest. His despondency, his insomnia. I’m not a doctor or a healer or anything, but if I were to look at him not knowing about his situation, I might assume he was a cancer patient. With his general weakness it seemed that something was eating at him from the inside. Something that was much a part of him as it was attacking him.

Rangiku-san’s symptoms were more mild, or perhaps she was just better at hiding them. I cared for her and I wished I could give her my empathy, but she had always been hard to talk to about personal matters, and there was probably nothing more personal than one’s own death. But I could tell; something in the way she moved. Before she moved with impossible grace, like water, now she was stiff. She kind of jerked and started at unexpected noises, like her bones weren’t connected right.

It’s funny, in a terrible way. The ex-zombies are the ultimate warriors, the most perfect shinigami. Their souls died, and their bodies kept fighting. All I can do is be there and hope that they find their hearts.

 

I knew what to expect when Muguruma came back to us. He had that same aura about him, that cancerous glow. Despite his vigorous reputation, it wasn’t exactly rare to see him looking tired. He always had shadows under his eyes and deep lines in his face, but now he had them all the time. Not just when he thought that he was alone.

He doesn’t like when I ask about his health. Just gives me sass like “When you get eight hours of sleep you can talk, Hisagi.” Very thoughtful. Very rude. Good to see his personality hasn’t changed.

The most worrying thing is Kuna. I don’t know if she’s still mad at me for disrespecting her before. It would be petty of her, but I can’t honestly say I fully understand Kuna’s thought process. Maybe she believes I was trying to ignite a rivalry between us. She can be infuriating like that sometimes. When my back is to her, I can feel her suspicious eyes on me. Following me. Hunting me.

One time I walked into Muguruma’s office to drop of the patrol timesheets. Before my hand even touched the doorknob I heard Kuna’s voice on the other side. When I opened it I saw that Muguruma was in there with her, arms folded over his chest and looking dour. As soon as they both saw me, they fell silent.

Can’t say I liked that much.

What could she be saying to him? It must be about me, it’s not like Kuna has any other people around here she talks to or about. Everyone is sick of her getting in the way, I don’t know how Muguruma stands her.

I hate her. I hate her. I hate that she thinks she’s closer to him than I am, she calls him Kensei like she’s more important than me, but she just wants to keep me away. I bet if she knew I was with Renji and Izuru, she’d try to steal them too. She just wants to torture me.

Muguruma saved me. He chose me, not her. He’s my captain, my hero, my mentor. She needs to know that.

 

I wrote the fake report. I should document the details of how I did so some time, since it was frighteningly easy. Way too easy. If I write a guide, then perhaps that will prevent me from falling for my own tricks in the future. You can never be too careful.

Step 1. Any location further than District 66 should be automatically under suspicion.

Step 2. Don’t believe signatures. I forge Muguruma’s name all the time when I do his paperwork for him. It’s just another way I know him the best.

 

 

I really have lost my mind, haven’t I? I’m reading back on these notes, and I can’t believe I wrote all of this. It feels like a dream I had. Like someone else’s dream. Anyone who writes 64 base code by hand has some serious problems. This whole journal is just full of chaos and misery. A look into the twisted psyche of a pathetic failure.

I’ll explain what happened. After I forged the note from Muguruma, left it somewhere and trusted Kuna’s nosiness to find it. When it came to making an official-looking notice for a mission request, I had seen and written enough to practically do it with my eyes closed.

Two lieutenant-level shinigami, dismissed at midnight to quietly investigate the appearance of a hollow in the obscure corner of the Rukongai. I wondered if it was nostalgic for Kuna. A betrayal in the middle of the night.

“Shuuheiiiii! I don’t feel any spiritual residue! Are you sure the memo said it was here?” Mashiro was pouting, and her voice rang across the empty outdoors. In the moonlight her green hair looked teal. I watched the back of her head as she kicked a rock in frustration, and it bounced off one of the threes in the dense forest.

“I’m sure.” I said. “It could be masking it’s reiatsu somehow, that would explain how it got into Soul Society in the first place.”

No one’s giving me awards for my acting any time soon.

“Ugh. Gross. Typical dummy Kensei, kicking us out in the middle of the night.” Her voice grated on my ears. I loathed to hear her speak like that, but I bit my tongue. I wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer.

My eye hovered on her. She looked so small in the darkness. Just a girl. Still facing away from me, she crouched down in the dirt, mumbling or babbling. “Animal tracks here. Bunnies, probably. The hollow we’re looking for isn’t a bunny, is it? I wonder if that’d be cute.”

Shut up, you’re so annoying. My fist tightened on the hilt of my sword.

My brain, the part of me that wasn’t seething in rage and jealousy, screamed at me to stop. This was wrong. Kuna was my ally and my friend. I would miss her when she was gone.

But the rest of me was already in the future. Kuna had been known to disappear for long stretches of time. She was fickle like that. Muguruma would notice she was gone, and he would of course miss her. But he would get over it. After all, he had an even better lieutenant and protege with him already, so why would be think about Kuna at all? He’d see that I was better in every way, and would appreciate never being bothered by this loud-mouthed brat.

Slowly, my feet pulled me forward. With nobody looking for her at first, that would buy me time. The longer the body decomposed the less likely anyone would find it. Even if they found it, the details of the death could be obscured. I would dismember her. I’d bury her. It would be as if she just ran away. And I’d be Kensei’s only right-hand man, like it was supposed to be. Then I would only need to worry about Renji and Izuru, making sure they were free of distractions also. If I could do it once, I could do it again.

I just needed to take care of this.

I wonder if she heard the metal of my Kazeshini, slid so slowly and smoothly, graze against its sheath. Like a whisper, barely brushing her ear.

I struck, tried to reach the bare sliver of skin visible under her short hair that covered the back of her neck. To swipe my sword in a silver arc and wait for the audible ‘thump’ of a head sans body, hitting the ground like lead weight.

It did not. My blade cut air. Kuna either was too quick to realize my game, or she had been playing along the whole time. Either way, she was already on her feet.

“Shuuhei,” She said. Her eyes were full of fear. I hated the way she said my name, as if I were a child. How dare she of all people treat me like that? “Don’t-”

I tried to cut her. If there was ever a point of return, there was no going back now. Like I could allow her to live now, after this.

She dodged me easily. I hadn’t forgotten that Kuna was an experienced lieutenant long before I had even held a sword in my hand, but I had been relying on the element of surprise. I just needed her to die quietly, and she couldn’t even do that for me. So I was pretty firmly fucked.

As I realized this, Kuna spun on her heel. In one fluid motion, she raised her leg and roundhouse-kicked Kazeshini out of my hands. Sending it twirling into the tall grass.

I reached for my neck, for the explosive chain I kept for emergencies. Maybe I could at least catch her in the inferno, not as clean as I wanted but still effective.

Too late. She was gone. And by the time I got back, there’d be no more hiding the truth.

 

 

I’m glad she escaped.

 

 

 

Okay.

Alright.

Goddamn.

Let’s think about this logically for a second.

So, uh. Suffice it to say, by the time I got back to the Ninth Division, Muguruma and Kuna were waiting for me. I’d like to give the details for the sake of historical accuracy but also… I don’t want to. I think it’s best if I leave that a little less explicit.

I was placed under arrest. And I went quietly. The reality of what I had done, what I was becoming dawned on me, and there was no point trying to run away from it.

There’s no evidence on hand to support this, but I suspect that Muguruma got in contact with Renji. He knows about our situation. Izuru probably would have kept his lips sealed about my suspicious behaviour, loyal and afraid of what would happen if he said the wrong thing. But Renji, fearing for my safety and health, would confess his fears to Muguruma in an attempt to get me medical attention.

I don’t deny- my state was altered. My emotions were inflated, dramatically. Obsessively. But I really do love them. I’m so sorry for letting them down, and it really is too bad because I don’t think I’m going to get to tell them that in person for a long time.

I sat in the cell- my cell, technically. Because it was the cell occupied only by myself, but as the Lieutenant of the Ninth Division, the Ninth division jail was also my jail.

I needed to talk to Kotetsu. If there was something wrong with my brain, she was the best shot I had at fixing it. And if the wires were crossed too badly, then. Well.

The Maggots’ Nest has been where we throw the trash of Soul Society for centuries. Can you blame me for being scared?

Anyways, there I was. Wallowing in my own misery, as ya’ do. I studied my hands in my lap. I couldn’t believe that I had actually tried to… to kill Kuna. If she hadn’t fought back in an instant, I would have murdered her and she would be gone forever. Surely, I would be filled with regret. But at the time I was so convinced that what I was doing was right. I felt positive in that moment that there was no downside.

The one room to the door opened with a metal clang. She walked in. Captain Yadomaru studied me under the brim of her glasses like someone might study a disgusting bug. Not even a bug but half of a bug, squirming pathetically under her lens.

I didn’t know her well. Only peripherally to Mugumura and Kuna. As much as I wanted to believe she wasn’t sent here to execute me, I decided to reserve my judgements and keep very quiet and very still.

After a moment, Yadomaru turned her back to me. The door opened before her, and I could see the stretch of empty hallway all the way down. “You want to get out of here, right? Follow me.”

My breath caught in my throat. Was I awaiting trial? It was treasonous for a shinigami to attempt to kill another officer. (Not that there weren’t plenty of exceptions to that rule- but I doubted I was one of them.)

Even if it wasn’t that, did I even want to leave? I didn’t want to run away from my crime. I was a lot of things by this point, but I didn’t think I was a coward.

“Are you stupid? I said to move.” Yadomaru turned her head towards me, brushing her long hair over her shoulder. “You want answers, right? You ain’t getting any just sitting in here.”

 

I obeyed. I followed her out of the cell. Having spent so much of my life in the Ninth Division, seeing any part of it empty like this put a pit in my stomach. What would Muguruma and Kuna tell the rest of our subordinates? I really had no say in the matter, and I guess I didn’t deserve one.

She took me into another room, a storage shed that I usually saw full of training supplies and equipment when the weather was too nasty to leave outside. When Yadomaru opened the door and ushered me inside, I could see that the training equipment had been pressed up to one side of the wall. On the other side was a long table, and a familiar body.

My own. A human gigai had been prepared for me, as if I were deployed on a long-term mission to the real world.

“What is this?” I asked, looking down at my own, unmoving face. I never liked these things much. It was disturbing to see your own visage completely still, as if you were dead and having an out of body experience. I think it must feel the same for humans right after they die. When their soul chain is still attached to their unmoving corpse

“You know about us Visoreds, yeah? Kensei, Mashiro, Shinji, Rose and the others. Well, being turned half-hollow is no walk in the park. It takes hard work.”

I looked back to Yadomaru. Her arms were folded over her chest. “Visoreds have to deal with a lot of bullshit that regular people don’t have to. There’s this urge inside of you… almost like another personality. It fights against you, even tricks you, until it gets its way. In order to master those impulses, you gotta learn constant control and discipline.”

I could see where she was going with this. But it didn’t necessarily make sense.

“But… I’m not a visored.”

“No,” She agreed. “But you need help.”

From the sleeve of her captain’s shihakusho, she pulled out an object. In her hands, she held up a book to me. A familiar book, with worn, uneven pages and coffee rings on the cover. Several tags poking out to mark the locations of particularly important notes.

It was my journal. The same one I’m writing in right now.

She tossed it to me roughly, I scrambled to catch the journal as it bounced off my chest. Heat flooded me again, wondering how much Yadomaru had read of my looney driveling and sinister plotting. I could only imagine she got ahold of it because I left it in my office, before my attempt to kill Kuna. Who else had read my private thoughts?

“Go to the World of the Living. Find Hiyori and the other Visoreds still living there.” Yadomaru said, and she pointed forcefully at my gigai on the table. “And get your shit together. If you can control your emotions, you can overcome the brainwashing.”

And then, come home.

 

 

This is my last entry. For now. I decided to leave the journal with Izuru while I’m away, and I can’t promise how long this new ‘training is going to take’.

I don’t believe I’m beyond hope. I believe that I can discipline my mind and control my thoughts. But I also know that my violent impulses and possessive desires won’t die quietly. It’s a war against my own brain, and I’m the trickiest son of a bitch I know.

Izuru, I really am sorry. I’m sorry to Renji, and Kensei and the rest of our friends, too. I’m mostly sorry to Kuna, and you can let her know she was totally justified for kicking my ass.

I’ll write letters in the WotL to let you know how my progress is going. Meditation and stuff. Probably fist-fighting Sarugaki-san until I’m too exhausted to think murderously. But I think it’s for the best that I don’t see any of you in person, at least for a little while. You’re still too dear to me, and when I think of you I can feel my heart pound dangerously. It still wants to leap right out of my chest.

 

 

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End file.
